


(utterly, hers)

by kinpika



Series: merde, je t’aime tant [15]
Category: My Candy Love
Genre: F/M, His version of what transpired, Marriage Proposal, request on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 07:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15601149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: Sequel toif you're down, then so am iPlenty of almost perfects, just to mess with him.





	(utterly, hers)

Castiel really hadn’t planned a lot when it came to his life, that much he could admit freely. High school wasn’t even at the top of his list of things to do, way down around number seven of the top ten. Whilst two to six were depending on the day, number one had always been to do with his music — no amount of crazy ex’s in his life was going to destroy that.

But high school happened. _Gigi_ happened. On a good day, he remembered bits and pieces, as everything seemed to blur into one big motion picture, as it usually did around her. Not a bad thing, not at all, as it meant things kept at a good pace, and he could rely on her to know what to do next.

Except this time, Castiel knew what he wanted to do. Not the when or the where or even really a why, beyond knowing that when she snoozed next to him on every train, fingers threaded through his, being his rock when they met every prospective agent… Castiel _knew_. The no doubt in his mind kind of knew, complete with a certain amount of surreal understanding of what kind of step he wanted to take.

So, it was small steps. A matching tattoo, which almost broke them, as do all significant tattoos, if the superstition was to be believed. A promise one afternoon, just as they unloaded a week’s worth of washing into the machine. An exchange of jewellery, that never quite held the weight of what he wanted, but the meaning was all there, underneath cubic zirconia and silver. 

Not the gold he wanted to give, nor the exact cut of stone. In between notes, lyrics, time, Castiel found himself sketching just the kind of ring he wanted to give, to match the brilliance that was Gigi. Coupled with a few dollar signs, just to remind himself of what he wanted, and what he needed to do.

Eventually, _eventually_ , Castiel gets the rock on the gold band. Cut the way he wanted, haggled and bargained all the way down, with a reasonable warranty and lifetime care. It sits in his pocket, a burning reminder that the time was coming close, even if he didn’t know _when, where, how._  

Plenty of almost perfects, just to mess with him.

Lunch, just the two of them, inner city with the sun shining off her hair, and far too much cream on his dessert. 

Dinner, all their friends back in town after a year apart, exchanging stories and details and there’s a look or two of knowing sent his way.

The movie on the twenty-fifth, something mushy and corny and has her crying. 

Valentine’s. Their anniversary. Christmas. Easter. Her birthday. _His_ birthday. A year flies by, dates all rolling in to one. So easy to lose track of time, when Gigi sets upon him with such an easy smile, going all the way to her eyes. 

But the ring still sits in his pocket. And the weight of it almost begins to fade, until it’s dead on one in the morning, in some hotel basement, unfamiliar, waiting for the laundry. Jacket discarded in their room, box safely tucked inside. Gigi looks at him like there was nothing else (just as he had been looking at her, going on four years now).

Of course she gets the words out first. No fooling around, no waiting on the perfect time. Maybe this was the perfect time they needed, right at that moment, under fluorescent lights in some unknown city. No one else, just the two of them. 

Just when he thought he was that one step ahead, Gigi took another leap, ending up a mile away. Castiel didn’t mind, not when his phone is abandoned and she’s in his arms, laughing and crying and _thanking_ him, like he’d assured her of something he didn’t understand. He might never, but Castiel kisses her in the only way he knew how — passionately and wholly (utterly, hers).

In their room, later, clothes hanging out to dry, Gigi curled up under the sheets, trying to find something on the tv to lull them to sleep before breakfast, Castiel finally fishes through his pockets. Finds the little box that had been tormenting him for a year. Slides back into bed, sifting through the cold to find her warmth. 

Castiel pulls the ring from the box, throwing it over his shoulder as he takes her left hand. He doesn’t remember the last time he managed to make her speechless, and took that as a small burst of ego, kissing each knuckle, before sliding the ring onto her finger. 

A perfect fit. He knew it would be. After all, Gigi was definitely his number one, now and forever. 


End file.
